He Who Lives By the Sword
by Estoma
Summary: Drabbles written for the Caesar's Palace forum: Cato didn't always like swords. Clove didn't want Cato's help. Clove always mocked Cato. They change their minds too late.
1. Sword: Start 'em Young

**Author's note: Greetings. You all know how much I love drabbles, so here are some more for you. All are 100 words, and italics indicate direct speech. I hope you enjoy! **

**Drabble series written for the 'Weapons Challenge' in the Caesar's Palace forum prompts section. There are 15.**

**01. Sword: **noun, a weapon with a long metal blade and a hilt with a hand guard, used for thrusting or striking and now typically worn as part of ceremonial dress. (Oxford Dictionary)

**Start 'em Young**

_Do you know what this is?_

_A sword._

_No, it's not._

The older man tossed the weapon in the air. It spun, end over end and the child's gaze locked onto it. He only blinked when his father caught it once more.

_This is everything, understand? Your ticket to fame and money. To making your district proud._

The child nodded solemnly. It was easier that way.

When the session ended, and his father left him, he touched the leather grip, marked with his father's fingers. Then he kicked the stand that held it.

_No it's not. It's just a sword._


	2. Shield: Prophetic

**Author's note: Thanks for everyone who read, favourited, followed and reviewed for the last chapter. **

**2. Shield: **verb, protect from a danger, risk, or unpleasant experience (Oxford Dictionary)

**Prophetic**

He flung his arm in front of her, and the blow reverberated on his wooden shield. Clove pointed her own wooden blade accusingly.

_What were you doing?_

_Protecting you! _Cato shook the dented shield in her face.

_I don't need your help. _

_Cato, Clove, _Brutus snapped, _you'll be allies for fuck's sake. Clove, this time, you watch Cato's back. _

_Watch this, _she snarled. Her sword clattered to the ground and she shoved both her hands into Cato's chest. He took two steps back and she turned away.

_Fuck you Clove, _he called after her, _You're going to need me sometime!_


	3. Spear: Nice Try

**Author's note: Thanks everyone who has got on board with this story already! Please enjoy. **

**3. Spear: **noun, a weapon with a pointed tip, typically of steel, and a long shaft, used for thrusting or throwing. (Oxford Dictionary)

**Nice Try**

The wooden shaft felt so solid in his hand and his fingers naturally found their places. His body shifted automatically to compensate for the weight.

In front, was the target. Cato took three running steps and let the spear fly. The moment he let it go, his face fell and he turned away. He heard the dull thunk as the spear found the dummy, but only the leg.

_Nice try_.

Derisive laughter echoed around the space, multiplying it, until it seemed that three people mocked him, not just one.

Cato didn't even look around, not this time.

_Fuck off Clove_.


	4. Dagger: At Daggers Drawn

**Author's note: Thanks everyone for your attention so far. There are only 11 more prompts to go until I complete the challenge. **

**4. Dagger.** Phrase: to be at daggers drawn; be bitterly hostile towards (Oxford Dictionary)

**At Daggers Drawn**

Clove stepped, and across the circle, drawn in chalk, her trainer mirrored her. Cato leant against the wall. There was a smirk on his face.

The aim was simple; to get past Fallon. She moved quickly. Yet somehow still found herself pinned on her back, Fallon smiling above her. Clove swore she'd learn how he did it.

_It's not fair._

_I know, _Fallon agreed, _but you'll rarely fight someone your size._

When Fallon let her up, Clove got to her feet, prim as a cat and she caught Cato's gaze.

_Let's see how you do then. _Her eyes shot daggers.

**Author's note: Looks like Clove did learn to pin someone like that...just ask Katniss. **


	5. Axe: One Blunder, or Two

**Author's note: Thanks everyone for your interest so far! We're a third of the way through the prompts challenge. **

**Some context now; Cato watches a clip of Johanna Mason kill the District 2 tribute of that year. **

**5. Axe**, noun, a tool used for chopping wood, typically of iron with a steel edge and wooden handle.

**One Blunder, or Two **

_So what did he do wrong? _

Cato swallowed. He closed his eyes, but the image didn't fade. The skinny girl from 7, with her axe, and the way their tribute's stomach split open. Guts spilled out of the gash, like pale sausages and tangled around his legs.

_Pay attention, _Brutus snapped.

_Lay off Brutus, he gets it. _Fallon put a hand on Cato's shoulder.

_Keep the fuck out, I'm training him. _Brutus turned to Cato again. _What did he do wrong?_

_He volunteered._

Brutus' backhand made his vision blur and but he could still see the girl with her axe.


	6. Bow: Anger so Distemper'd

**Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favourites and to everyone who read and enjoyed. The title of this piece is taken from Shakespeare, 'The Tempest'**

**6. Bow**, noun, a weapon for shooting arrows, typically made of a curved piece of wood joined at both ends by a taut string.

**Anger so Distemper'd**

_Go on, string the bows both of you_, Enobaria said.

Cato bent the bow around his leg, reaching around to fix the string in place. He turned to see Clove. Her hand shook with strain, the string still three inches short of the tip. He smiled, and made no effort to hide it.

_Cato, help Clove, would you. _

He plucked the bow from her hand and strung it with exaggerated ease. The taut string thrummed when he plucked it. When he held it out to Clove, she shoved it back, hard against his chest.

_Go shove it up your arse. _


	7. Arrow: This Tiger-Footed Rage

**Author's note: Thanks all, as always, I really appreciate the attention paid to this story. If you like my drabbles, check out my story '60 Seconds'. Sorry for the advertising. And again, the title is taken form Shakespeare's Coriolanus, I just think it suits Clove so well doesn't it?**

**Just to clear up a point that my friend made; if anyone is confused, Fallon, who keeps making cameo appearances, is one of my original characters. Check out my story 'outside the box' chapter 4 to read more about him. He's a young victor from District 2. **

**7. Arrow, **noun, a mark or sign resembling an arrow, used to show direction or position

**This Tiger-footed Rage**

Cato shaded his eyes against the glare of the sunset. One whole side of the mountain was painted a delicate peach, but he looked past it.

_This sucks, _he spat, _you must have missed an arrow. Fallon said it should only take 'til afternoon. _

_I didn't miss anything, _Clove snapped.

_Well there's no point keeping going, _Cato shrugged off his heavy pack. _Too dark to see them now._

_We should find a better spot. _

_I'm sick of walking. Go find it by yourself then. _

Clove glared, but she too dropped her pack.

Cato smirked. _Looks like you're stuck with me. _


	8. Knife: Knives are Out

**Author's note: Thanks everyone for following so far! This has been a fun challenge. I might just have to do another? In this chapter you might notice a shifting attitude. Please bear in mind that these aren't particularly chronological.**

**8. Knife**, phrase, the knives are out ( for someone ) informal there is open hostility (towards someone).

**Knives are Out**

The knife made a good, solid sound when it landed in the heart of the target dummy. Clove took a moment to watch it, a fiery grin on her face.

_You're really good at that._

Clove whirled around, her hair slapping against her neck. Cato stood by the open door, leaning there like he'd been watching her for a while.

_Yeh, better than you are, _she snapped. She turned back to the target.

Cato bit his lip and turned away. He'd only wanted to compliment her. On the way out, his steps dragged heavily, and his eyes were over bright.

* * *

**And I'd like to wish all a happy and safe Easter, love from Estoma x**


	9. Wire: Their Lives

**Author's note: Thanks for your reviews, follows, favourites, and just for reading so far. Some context now, Brutus and Lyme discuss different aspects of Cato and Clove's training.**

**Their Lives**

**9. Wire, **verb, snare (an animal) with wire.

_It's a bloody waste of time. _Brutus stood up, but Lyme mimicked him.

_Give them a week of training, let them learn one simple snare._

_We can't any time off weapons this close to the games. _

_It might save their lives. _Lyme enunciated each word, nearly spitting in his face. _Remember Lea's year?_ _If we didn't use all the money feeding him, we could have afforded medicine, he wouldn't have lost his arm. We'd have another victor. _

Brutus looked down a moment. Lyme waited. But when he caught her eye again, his face was still hard. He shook his head.


	10. Mace:Ghosts did shriek about the streets

**Author's note: Thank you everyone for persevering with me. We are 2/3 of the way through the prompts challenge. Again, the title is a Shakespearian quote, for which victor isn't haunted by ghosts?**

**10. Mace, **noun, a heavy club with a spiked metal head

**Ghosts did shriek about the streets**

_I'd prefer swords. _Cato shifted his feet.

Fallon held out the mace, balancing the weight easily. But his biceps were tensed.

_You don't always get the weapon you want._

_If you show them how good you are, then you do._

_Not always,_ Fallon snapped. Cato took a step back from his trainer's rare anger. His eyes were wide. _My arena, there were only maces, like this._

Cato swallowed. He reached out and took the grip, warm from Fallon's hand. The mace was heavy, but he held it upright as Fallon had.

_It wouldn't make a clean kill would it?_

_No. _


	11. Crossbow: Nearly There

**Author's note: Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed, reviewed and just enjoyed reading. I've only got a few more of these to go, but keep tuned for the next drabble series. I'm thinking of investigating families of tributes. **

**11. Crossbow**, noun, a medieval bow of a kind that is fixed across a wooden support and has a groove for the bolt and a mechanism for drawing and releasing the string.

**Nearly There**

In a week's time, they would be standing on the stage in front of the entire district, the words _I volunteer _fresh on their lips. The trainers were frantic. Brutus swore more than he spoke and Enobaria looked like she'd bite, but that was normal.

_Crossbows, _Fallon muttered to himself, _can't believe I forgot to teach crossbows. _

_Fallon, they'll never give us these, they're too easy, _Clove said.

_Knowing our luck, they won't give us any weapons at all, _Cato quipped.

Clove turned to smile at him, but then she remembered herself. Looking back to the targets, her scowl returned.


	12. Hammer: The course of true love

**Author's note: Nearly at the end! Here is what I think some of you have been waiting for. Title again from Shakespeare. **

**Some context: Imagine Cato standing by the edge of a disused quarry after hearing of his father's death in an accident...**

**The course of true love never did run smooth**

**12. Hammer, **phrase, to hammer out an agreement, to settle

_I'm sorry Cato, I heard about your father. _Clove put her hand on his shoulder, gentler than expected.

But it was too little, too late. Cato felt an attack, not a caress. He shouldered Clove out of the way.

And then she was falling over the edge of the quarry. A hundred feet below, the limestone waited.

Her high scream didn't sound like Clove.

Her hands felt right though, strong, when he reached down to pull her up from the ledge she'd caught in her frantic fall.

He had nothing to gauge her lips by, but they felt right too.


	13. Sickle: Think therefore on revenge

**Author's note: Very nearly finished. Thanks for your following the story nearly to the end. Shakespeare provided the title again. The next chapter is going to get gruesome...**

**13. Sickle, **a short-handled farming tool with a semicircular blade, used for cutting corn, lopping, or trimming

**Think therefore on revenge**

The cannon had sounded several minutes ago, its blast nearly lost in the thunder. Cato heard it, but he didn't comprehend. He stood in the trampled circle of grass, the ground turning to mud beneath his feet. Red mud in places, where the dirt mixed with the dark boy's blood.

It wasn't enough. Cato kicked out at the body, again and again, denting the skull just like Clove's. When he slipped, his foot sticky with mud, and blood, he sat down, hard. In the rain, it was difficult to tell if he cried, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.


	14. Gun: The quality of mercy

**Author's note: Nearly finished the prompts. If you want more drabbles, check out my story '60 Seconds'. Title is taken again from Shakespeare, 'The Merchant of Venice'**

**Thanks to a lovely guest for your review! I hope you keep reading. **

**14. Gun**, noun,a weapon incorporating a metal tube from which bullets, shells, or other missiles are propelled by explosive force, typically making a characteristic loud, sharp noise

**The Quality of Mercy**

Projected onto three walls, the mentors watched Cato. They watched what was left of him, and they listened to the sound that couldn't be made a living person, could it?

_Can't stand this. _Fallon's voice was raw, but he hadn't been shouting.

Nobody stopped him until he got to the guarded doors of the control room.

Now he shouted. _How the fuck can you do that to him? _

There was no reply but the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against his chest. Fallon's shout turned to a strangled sob.

_You'd kill me wouldn't you, but not that poor boy._


	15. Cannon: bloody will be thy end

**Author's note: Thanks for sticking with me! This is the completion of the prompts challenge, but look out for my other stories if you like more drabbles. Shakespeare provided the final title. In this case, the prompt may be a little loose, however the cannon sounding makes me think of death and finality, and this scene is about death and the end of things. **

**15. Cannon**

**Bloody thou art; bloody will be thy end**

Brutus descend to the bowels of the tribute tower, below even the training centre. It was a place he went every year, though less than some mentors. The morgue. In a rare show of kindness, Brutus volunteered to go in place of the other mentors.

He looked down into the coffin, but there weren't enough recognizable features to touch a nerve. His face was hard.

_Well fuck, _he said.

The lone mortician, a woman, glanced up at him from her work. Gloves went to her elbows, and they were stained red all the way up.

_That's what I thought too. _


End file.
